


No Pink Dresses

by RaverSawyer (RockSiren)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bath, F/M, Love, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSiren/pseuds/RaverSawyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 2011 fanwork summer fest at jaimexbrienne on LJ. Prompt was (and summary is):</p><p>Another bath together, as smutty as you want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Pink Dresses

**Author's Note:**

> Their second bath. No real story here, just some fluffy smut.

 

      Jaime shook his head, the droplets of sweat landing on his shoulders.  He was absolutely drenched- but it was exhilarating.  His muscles ached, his arms throbbed, but it was another testament to the muscle he had rebuilt in the last year.  He was a man without position.  His Uncle was dead.  His- his “nephews” were dead.  His niece was safe enough in Dorne.  Perhaps it was for the best- maybe she would stay sweet, away from the family.  He was relieved of the King’s guard, and a relief it was.  So here he was, forcing squires to spar with him in Harrenhal, as he waited with wards and turn cloaks.  But for now, he wanted a large horn of ale and a soak in the bathhouse.

      He pointed at his squire and told him his wishes, undoing the laces of his doublet as he approached the doors to the bathhouse, steam having warped the wood over the years.  He threw it open and strode inside, a quick glance around the pools revealing he was alone.  He exhaled gruffly and went inside one of the small alcoves, relieved no one was going to see his stump.  He unlaced the doublet the rest of the way, letting it fall to his feet.  He tugged the wet undershirt over his head, throwing his sword and scabbard on top of it.  He stepped out of his boots and as his hands went to the laces of his britches, he heard splashing, looking behind him. 

     A form was in one of the pools, but was obscured by steam.  Jaime could make out a head falling back onto the ledge in relaxation, an arm propped next to it.  He turned back to his task.  He had never been one to be shy, but he was cognisent of his puckered and chapped arm.  He shrugged, tugging his britches off and sighing with relief.  He turned around, and headed for one of the pools, aware of the other bather’s eyes on him.

     Jaime reached the pool, exhaling as the warm water enveloped his achy muscles.  Wetting his head, he let his neck fall back onto the edge, willing his shaky legs to relax.

    “You know…” he heard a confident, feminine voice say, “the view is better when one isn’t afraid to appreciate it.”  His eyes snapped open and he looked at the adjacent pool, the steam clearing to reveal- her.

    “Wench?” he asked incredulously.  She waded to the side of her pool, her hands folded underneath a prominent chin, her blue eyes dazzling with amusement at having gotten the better of him. 

    “Ser Jaime...I do believe you are blushing”.

    “Nonsense”, he answered, his face serious, his eyes surveying her face.  New scars were on her cheek, but it did not hurt her looks, such as they were.  He had a stirring in his abdomen as noted the tops of her breasts peeking out over the edge.  “Where…what happened to you?” he asked.  There was something new about Brienne- something unafraid.  She truly had gained something.  She shrugged.

     “It matters not Ser Jaime”, she did flinch a little at his left hand going to her face, the blush that came across her making her scars a deeper red as well. 

     “I hope you killed the fucker”, he said.

     She nodded and laughed a little.

     “Biter was not just a nickname.”  Jaime felt his stomach drop. 

      “Oh…Brienne.”

     She laughed, a full mouthed, throaty laugh.

     “Oh here we are Kingslayer- back here, roles reversed.  You dolling out the pity, me weighed down with deformity, snark and lust.”  With that her face became serious, her eyes darkened.  She leaned into his outstretched hand, kissing his palm. 

     “This is not you wench”, he answered with a smile, strangely stirred and aroused by her confidence. 

  Brienne went down underneath the partition that separated the two pools, and swam over to his side.  He was acutely aware of his own desire and it didn’t help seeing her modest chest bobbing out of the water as she emerged, long hair swept behind her, breathing heavy as she inhaled air.  The hair between her legs was as bushy as it had been before, but Jaime didn’t know if he could resist touching it now. 

    “Who was I before Ser?” she responded, settling herself against the opposite ledge, out of his reach.  He openly looked at her, her naked form distorted by water.  She sat back with a smirk, a cynical confidence radiating from her. 

    “Are you still the Maid of Tarth?” he asked.  She reddened, but her eyes didn’t leave his.  She nodded and he sighed, not sure if he was relieved or not- why he should care.  _‘Because I want her’_ , he thought to himself. 

    “Maid…and a thousand other things.  Oath keeper, oath breaker, Lannister whore, turn cloak, king slayer, noble, disgraceful, hideous, beautiful-in-spirit.”  Brienne laughed, giving that last name a little punctuation in chuckles.  Her laugh seemed to liven up her face, her lips swelling into a smile that reached those piercing blue eyes.  Jaime shook his head, swimming towards her.  He grabbed the soft brush from next to the pool, sliding the soap on it twice. 

    “Turn around”, he said to her and she smirked, although he could see the nervousness behind her eyes.  He moved her hair aside, noting the dash of freckles across her shoulders.  He had the sudden impulse to kiss them, wanted to know what her skin felt like against his lips, but for the moment he contented himself in washing her shoulders.  They relaxed under him, and she rolled them forward, working muscles that were almost always tensed.  Jaime smiled to himself, enjoying the moment of Brienne unguarded.  She had started to hum in time shamelessly as his hands became harder and massaged her. 

    “Jaime”, he thought he heard her say, so quiet it was almost inaudible.  And drawn in by the smooth skin of her at her muscular shoulders, he pressed his lips to the back of her neck.  A gasp left her lips, her eyes almost shut.  His hand and stump were on her arms, and he pulled her tight to him.  He kissed her again on the neck below her earlobe, letting his lips touch her skin ever so slightly. 

    Brienne shivered, feeling his hot breath on her. 

    “Cold, wench?” he asked, waiting for a typical response for their banter.  When it did not come and he felt her still breathing heavy, he turned her around to face him.  Her hands went to his chest, lightly touching the light hairs on his chest.  Her eyes which had been half-open, widened looking over his handsome face.  He swore he saw a small smile. 

     “My name…is Brienne.” With that she grabbed his face, mashing her lips against his.  His were mannishly rough, but hers were soft and he remembered although she was unbelievably tough, she was still a woman, sighing in his arms. 

      Jaime returned her kiss passionately, and bit her lips playfully until she opened and let his warm tongue explore hers.  A giddiness spread through Brienne like ink on new linen, coursing through her whole body.  She heard a moan in the back of her throat, and she couldn’t get enough of his lips, his body- she was too hungry and too scared that this moment was a dream, or a cruel trick or the bliss that comes before one dies.  But she was reassured when she felt his muscular arms wrap around her, pulling her into him.  They both stood where they were, and his mouth left hers to nip at her ear and collarbone, roughly exploring her. 

     His lips trailed down to her small, perky breasts which had hardened with anticipation and hardened even more as she felt his lips wrap around them, sucking them.  He lightly bit at them, and she heard a loud wail leave her that echoed the bath chamber.  Jaime laughed a bit at that, and she did not care- he could have his jape, as long as his mouth did not stop.  The giddiness was moving into her abdomen, a strange nervousness that she had not felt since she said goodbye to him at King’s Landing- like a silly girl looking on a comely contestant in a tourney.  She laughed out loud at the thought.  He returned to her lips, her nails sinking into his shoulders, her ankle snaking around his, sliding wetly.  He moved her back to the little ledge of the pool, sitting her on it and parting her thick thighs.  They broke apart, both chests heaving with exasperated desire.  She moved her hands down his chest, leaning forward to bite his nipples and he groaned. They put their foreheads together as he moved in between her legs, pulling her up to the very edge.

    Jaime’s desire was hot on her thigh, but he did not rush her, no matter how badly he wanted to.  She had to be ready- understand what was happening.  Not that he thought her stupid, but she had been the subject of cruel bets and japes- understand that he _wanted her._   As a woman worthy of such desire. 

    “Jaime…I…” she started and for a moment he thought she was going to end it, end their brief time of being themselves.  Of living for themselves and each other.  Her fingertips lightly brushed his cock, and he jumped, a bit surprised. 

   “Want…I have not done this before…I do not wish to seem….clumsy.” her face contorted with the puzzle of finding the right words.  She moved even closer to him, rubbing herself with frustration against his thigh.  He gave her a kind smile and kissed her forehead. 

     “Oh Brienne, let someone else be in charge for once.”  With that his left hand went in between her legs, finally getting to touch the hair there and was surprised in finding it soft, almost downy.  His right arm pulled her close and she was breathing heavily against him.

    “Hmmm…” he said and she looked at his puzzled expression.

    “What- oohhh…”, she exclaimed as his fingers went into her folds, exploring her womanhood without a real sense of urgency.  He found her wet and hot, and her nub of pleasure engorged from the passion of their kissing.  He teased it lightly, for he knew sometimes a woman’s parts were too sensitive for much roughness.  His fingers swirled around it, and she gasped, pushing herself towards his hand. 

     Nothing had ever felt as good as Jaime swirling around her clit, and when he bent and nipped at her breast, she thought it couldn’t get any better.  When she saw his proud smile, however, she wished she could gather herself together enough wits to punch him in the face.  But that too went away when he sank a long, smooth finger in her, exploring her.  She tensed a bit, and he whispered wordlessly and soothingly to her, as a second finger joined the first, the thumb nimbly taking over on her nub.  She could feel something rising in her abdomen, but she did not know if she wanted him to stop or keep going- both ideas seemed an agony.  She screeched shamelessly, thrashing about in his arms.  He increased his pace, swirling and plunging experienced fingers, crooking them upwards and finding a soft pad of flesh inside that made her yelp and writhe against him.       

    Brienne had heard of coupling, SEEN coupling, been able to had she desired it.  But this was something new, and as she let her legs relax and gave over the last of her stubbornness to him, she exhaled loudly and felt her whole body spasm as she felt him plunge deeply and massage inside her.  Jaime ground on her nub gently and stilled, feeling her juices coating him and her face flush, the Lady Knight peaking for probably the first time in her life.  And in HIS arms.  Her orgasm was lush and strong, hard- the letting go of 1000 sleepless nights and one-sided desire.  She smiled but her eyes were full of tears too.  He eased her back down on the bench, her languid form clutching at him.  He kissed her face. 

    “Oh Jaime…” she said, her voice quavering.  She rested her head against him and he took his hand from her thighs, inspecting it and swirling his tongue around his fingers.

    “So that’s what it takes to get you to say my name”, he said plainly, as she watched him lick her juices off of his hand.  “Mmmm…delicious.”  She was stunned; the eroticism of the act, the desire hot in his emerald eyes stirred her. She moved towards him, capturing his form in between her strong legs and pulling him forward and down for a kiss. He sealed his lips around hers, and stretched his arms on either side of her against the stone for balance. Brienne was grabbing at his flesh, pulling his hair trying to get him closer somehow. He soon guided her to stand and sit on the top edge of the pool. Her legs wrapped around his waist and urged him closer. His arms closed around her and again his eyes met hers. His cock nudged at her entrance.

    “Are you sure wench?” he asked.  She nodded.  With all his control, he went slowly, first pushing into her nether-lips and feeling he could go no further, pushed forward hearing a cry of pain from her.  He didn’t look upon her face until he was all the way inside, her muscles agonizingly tight around him and she was still, her breathing careful but labored.  He looked at her face which had gone pale, and was wrinkled with pain.  His left hand stroked her cheek.

    “I am sorry Brienne- it shall only hurt once.”  Jaime kissed her lips and she tentatively responded, breathing in deep.  He did not move his hips, until he felt her relax slightly around him, then slipped out and went back in, controlling his urges to make sure she was at least, if not enjoying, comfortable.  He looked at her face, a tear running from her eye but she was smiling contently, willing herself to relax.

     Brienne knew what to expect- but did not expect the gambit of emotions.  Sorrow at the loss of something she had had her whole life, fulfillment of desire to a handsome man, joy at coupling.  She felt him thrusting slowly in and out and concentrated on the feeling of him inside her, completing her.  Was she REALLY doing this, with Ser Jaime?  He kissed her lips, allowing her to relax.  His right arm pulled her close and his left one snaked between them, circling her nub slowly, in time with his deep thrusts.  Her arms circled around his neck and she kissed him, moving her hips against his, wanting him to go deeper and deeper.  The pain was waning and had been taken over by ticklish sensations of pleasure. 

     They met eyes; her blue orbs almost the color of melting snow and his the deepest green she had ever seen.  She was the one gasping now, unashamedly thrusting against him, and he removed his hand and replaced it with his strong stomach, stroking her faster and harder with each thrust.  He was practically holding her up, just the smallest part of her still on the ledge.  He put his hand underneath her leg, hitching it further up his side and pulling it around him, spreading her legs further allowing him as deep as he could get.  She was still on the rise and she wanted more, harder, him to find those places in side of her that made her see gold under her eyelids.

     Jaime and she were both panting, wantonly thrusting and finally she let out a high pitched scream as he hit a spot inside of her that caused waves of sensation to wash over her.  He stilled his movements, waiting for her to ride it out but found her contractions around him were too much and he let his control go and came.  His warm seed filled her and both now stilled, and she could hardly breathe he was holding her so close.  They gulped for air, and he roughly moved her so he could see her face, his hands tangled in her thick, straight tresses.  They stared at each other, neither one knowing what to do, so he kissed her.  He kissed her pouty pink lips, let his tongue run along her teeth, tasted her sweet tongue and then hugged her close. 

    “Oh my wench…” he said in a quick breath.  Brienne kissed his ear, a tiny little kiss.

   “Jaime…” she said in a husky yet feminine voice, sending a shiver through him.  He didn’t want to let he go- didn’t want to surrender her to everyone else yet, her naked, wet skin against his.  She loosened her grip on him, and he did likewise, slipping out of her, seeing her thighs still trembling from exertion and pleasure.  He winced and she followed his eyes to the smearing of blood on her thighs and his abdomen, dripping into the swirling pool below.  He took her hand and she slipped from the ledge back into the water, lowering herself in up to her shoulders and he did the same.

    Brienne did not know what to say, so she resumed washing herself, still tingling from the rush of their lovemaking.  She find herself crying a little bit.  Jaime walked up behind her, placing his hand and arm on her arms.

    “Brienne...” he asked more questioningly.  She spun around and buried her face in his chest, her arms pinned to him. 

    “I do not know why ser, I do not know why I am crying!” and she hated that he brought out her honesty.  She sniffled and laughed at the same time. 

    “Shhhh”, he said, hugging her and kissed her forehead.  He sat on the ledge again, allowing his legs to lay out horizontally on the rest of it.  She laid back on him, doing the same, their wet limbs rubbing together.  She laid her head against his broad chest, his arms encircling her and wept a little more.  Jaime did not have any advice for her, so he did not offer any.

    “Come back with me…to Casterly Rock.  Marry me.”

    She sniffed a little again, the now reddish nose doing nothing to help her appearance.  But there was something about her unguarded eyes he found fascinating.  All the ladies he had ever known, the courtly ladies at least, always seemed to have gears and schemes working in their minds, including his _lovely_ sister. 

    “If this is a jape Jaime, do not bother.  Why would you want to marry me?”

    Jaime exhaled, trying to keep his irritation in check.  He cursed those men- and women- that had made her feel she was nothing.

    "Why do you speak as though you are a lowly girl? You are a daughter of Tarth, of the Lord of Tarth. From the Sapphire Isle. You know me, the real me, better than anyone. You trust me. My own father did not even trust me. And you are not filled with malice and selfishness.  I love you- love me in return and give me giant whelps."  He drew her close, giving her another kiss on the forehead.      

      She looked down at her hands spread against his chest and smiled. 

     “Alright.  Just no pink dresses.”

   

 

    

    


End file.
